Castle Christmas
by Dr. Phoenix
Summary: Based on 1991 version. A one-shot from Adam's point of view about how Christmas is celebrated at the castle two or three years after the spell is broken...and of course, the servants are sarcastic as ever.


I love Belle, but I still don't care for Christmas. Don't get me wrong; I'm all for celebrating peace on Earth, and I love hearing Belle's angelic voice through the corridors as she sings carols, and seeing how excited the children of the castle are when they play in the snow or open their presents is amusing.

However, the servants tend to use any holiday as an excuse to quarrel. They argue about amounts of holly while singing Christmas carols. They try to find ways to drop hints that the forest workers aren't welcome at the dinner table. Cogsworth tries to steal all Lumière's mistletoe to prevent him from philandering.

This year Belle had an even worse idea than usual. "It's our first Christmas as parents, so let's hear how everyone celebrated Christmas when they were children!"

The servants responded with strong protests, but I could have told them they were wasting their time. When Belle gets a ridiculous idea in her head, there's no talking her out of it. No other woman is half as stubborn!

"When we pass around the yule log and make our wishes, we can all pause and tell a little about when we were young," Belle continued. "We'll get to know each other better as friends. You know, in all my time living in this castle, I'm afraid I don't know much about anyone's childhood."

Loup, one of our head forest caretakers, was the first to speak. "I'll be happy to tell you about my childhood Christmas, on one condition."

"Of course!" Belle readily agreed. "Anything!"

His hazel eyes took on a slightly amber sparkle. "Bring me a quarterstaff."

My wife frowned. "You want a quarterstaff for Christmas? But you work in a forest. Can't you find a dozen without even trying?"

Loup nodded. "I can, yes…but you can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, with all due respect, Your Majesty couldn't find a proper quarterstaff if your life depended on it. This I know for a fact."

Belle raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "You want me to fight you?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. I simply challenge you to find a proper quarterstaff. You don't even have to use it."

"Done!" My wife chuckled slightly. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"Remember, a proper quarterstaff will not be broken by your opponent."

I knew then that we would never hear of Loup's childhood. Belle has many strengths, but the ability to fight is not among them. Any quarterstaff she found would be broken if a leaf fell on it from too great a height.

"And when I find it, you'll tell us about your childhood?" she asked.

Loup's eyes were more amber than ever. "If you find a quarterstaff I cannot break, I will tell you of my childhood. However, if you do not find one, I ask for my freedom."

Of course! I had nearly forgotten that although he's earned his place among my servants, Loup is actually my prisoner. Years ago, I forced him to work for me as an alternative to decapitation. I suspect he would have preferred the latter.

"I too have a condition to make!" Cogsworth announced. "I will tell everyone not only about my childhood Christmas, but also a few incidents of my boyhood that involved me getting into trouble…IF Lumière can kiss fewer than ten ladies each day between now and Christmas."

That certainly settled it. We weren't going to hear about Cogsworth's childhood either.

"I will tell of mine only if Angelique will dance with me!" Maestro Fife remarked.

That ended any hope of us hearing about Fife as a boy.

On and on it went, each servant stating an impossible demand that must be met before telling of his or her childhood. The only one who remained silent was Mrs. Potts, one of the few servants who never chooses sides in these matters.

Our little "get closer as an extended family" plot having been foiled, the servants simply returned to their chores. All might have been well if Webster and La Plume hadn't started singing:

 _"Silent night_

 _Until the fight._

 _Hear wolves bark!_

 _Feel them bite_

 _At the peasant girl_

 _And former prince._

 _Bring hot water and_

 _Watch the Beast wince!_

 _Rest in heavenly peace!_

 _Rest in heavenly peace!"_

At this point, I had the mistaken belief that the song couldn't possibly get any worse, but as always, my servants had to prove me wrong:

 _"Silent night_

 _Until the fight._

 _Beauty quakes_

 _At the sight._

 _Blood is streaming from_

 _Thy royal arm,_

 _Yet hast thou saved thy_

 _Princess from harm._

 _Second chances are born!_

 _Second chances are born!"_

Here the song was interrupted by buckets of frigid water that poured down on them from over the banister as the forest workers stated that they didn't know about the night, but the day had better be a lot more silent if certain people didn't want to find themselves completely submerged in the nearly frozen river. (My forest caretakers are, for some reason, highly intolerant of any discussions concerning the time I saved Belle from a pack of wolves. It's almost as if they blame themselves.)

Being ever resourceful, Lumière at once found a song the other servants wouldn't mind:

 _"What woman is this_

 _Who cursed the rest_

 _Of us as we were sleeping,_

 _Who brings a rose?_

 _Do you suppose_

 _There are secrets she's keeping?_

 _This is an enchantress_

 _Who has power to curse or bless!_

 _Why was the Beast unkind?_

 _The whole castle is cursed now."_

To my surprise, Cogsworth added a verse:

 _"What has she done_

 _To our estate?_

 _In the woods, wolves are feeding._

 _All servants fear_

 _The end is near;_

 _The rose petals are depleting._

 _This spell means our lives are through._

 _That clock was once me; the plate was you._

 _The master was unkind._

 _The whole castle is cursed now!"_

Angelique added the next verse:

 _"And we are incensed_

 _Thanks to her!_

 _Come peasant, for we're lonely._

 _The son of kings_

 _Is the Beast who brings_

 _His heart to give you only._

 _She was an enchantress_

 _Who left us all in such distress!_

 _The master was unkind._

 _The whole castle is cursed now!"_

While several of the servants laughed and applauded, Belle frowned, stating that nowhere in "Greensleeves" was there a verse about an enchantress cursing a castle.

Not to be done, Babette started in on her own song:

 _"Joy to the world!_

 _The spell is done!_

 _The Beast is future king!_

 _The Beauty's heart_

 _Prepared him room!_

 _Let castle and forest sing!"_

"Back to work!" I ordered.

They obeyed for half an hour…Okay, so it was more like ten minutes. Then Lumière started singing:

 _"On the first day of Christmas,_

 _I hope no one will bring_

 _A dying rose in the West Wing."_

It spread like wildfire, and soon every servant was trying to add their own verse. The song went from being "The Twelve Days of Christmas" to starting in early November and ending in late January due to all the extra verses.

Their worst song yet was entirely morbid. Surprisingly, the forest workers started it. They rarely sing, yet as they scattered bird seed through the branches of an evergreen tree outdoors, Louve sang softly while she worked:

 _"Oh, Christmas tree! Oh, Christmas tree!_

 _I hope you're seen from Heaven._

 _Some people live a life of ease;_

 _Some people die of cruel disease._

 _Oh, Christmas tree! Oh, Christmas tree!_

 _Give our regards to Heaven!"_

Mrs. Potts overheard and stepped out of the castle. "Are you missing someone, dear?"

"Christmas is hard," Louve confessed. "Everyone complains about their families coming to visit. My brother and I would give anything to have that problem."

"Our mother died of consumption," Loup explained. "I mean the disease, not that she was a glutton. It was even worse for Father. He caught rabies. It's a slow, horrific death."

There's nothing like a sad memory to take the joy out of a major holiday. Soon everyone was making up verses about people they hoped saw their Christmas trees from the afterlife.

Things might have been alright then, but Cogsworth asked rhetorically, "Do you really think the deceased can see Christmas celebrations from the next world?"

Lumière shrugged. "I don't know much about the supernatural, but if the royal clergymen are to be believed, there is one thing you will never have to fear after death."

"And what is that?"

"Frostbite!"

That started a minor duel between them.

I quit. If someone else wants to be King of France until after the holiday season is over, be my guest.


End file.
